--The prince complained already some time ago.
Czeska.--For twenty years.
Prince.--Sorrow and public service have ruined my health.
Czeska.--But Your Highness is healthy.
Prince (angrily).--I tell you that I am sick. Stella, I am sick--am I
not?
Stella.--But now you will feel better.
Prince.--Because he alone keeps me alive. Stella would have died also
with heart trouble if it had not been for him.
Drahomir.--If that is so, he is a very precious man.
Stella.--We owe him eternal gratitude.
Prince (looking at George).--He will also be necessary to Pretwic.
What, Stella, will he not?
Stella (laughing).--Papa, how can I know that?
Drahomir.--Truly, I sometimes envy those stalwart men. During the
battle they strengthen in themselves the force which lessens and
disappears in us, because nothing nourishes it. Perhaps we are also
made of noble metal, but we are eaten up with rust while they are
hardened in the battle of life. It is a sad necessity.
Czeska.--How about Mr. Pretwic?
Drahomir.--George endured much, it is true, and one feels this
although it is difficult to describe it. Look at those two men. When
the wind blows George resists like a century-old tree, and men like
the doctor subdue it and order it to propel his boat. There is in that
some greater capacity for life, therefore the result is more easy to
be foreseen. The tree is older, and although still strong, the more it
is bitten by the storms, the sooner it will die.
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